


The Larry Drabbles

by T Verano (t_verano)



Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: Larry the Barbary Ape - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-15
Updated: 2009-05-15
Packaged: 2020-02-29 11:51:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18777712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t_verano/pseuds/T%20Verano
Summary: Six....ah, serial? drabbles, featuring Jim, Blair, sex, and Larry the Barbary Ape. In a manner of speaking. :-)





	The Larry Drabbles

**Author's Note:**

> Written for most lovely and generous slipperieslope for the Moonridge auction.
> 
> These were going to be three (serious) drabbles, but ended up needing to be six (and pretty conclusively *not* serious). And, um (::eyes them askance::), they don't exactly adhere to the true drabble tradition of perfect self-containment, either; it's really one whole thing which happens to be in drabble-sized bits, so the bits are drabbles only in the loosest of senses.
> 
> Beta'd, exceedingly helpfully -- and also very patiently -- by janedavitt.
> 
> slipperieslope mentioned she was fond of Larry, and eh, well... :-)

**I.**

You're lying there, sweating like a hard-ridden horse and catching your breath, feeling fine, until Sandburg flops over onto his back, heaves a sigh, and says, "You ever wonder how Larry is?"

Sex with you makes him think about a monkey? You frown.

He goes on. "I keep meaning to stop by the lab and see how the little guy's doing, since he's —"

A monkey? Really great sex with you, and he's thinking about —

"Mmmph," he finishes around your tongue in his mouth.

A fucking monkey. You'll show him _monkey_. You'll show him hot fucking _gorilla_ —

"Mmmph…" he says again.

 

**II.**

_Hell, yeah,_ you think as you lie there, drained dry, dripping wet, and panting. You're feeling smug; you're betting Sandburg can't remember _his_ name right now, let alone Larry the fucking monkey's.

"Holy shit," he says hoarsely, and he sounds gratifyingly sincere. He continues, around gulps of air, "Holy _shit_. That was… Jim, you _growled_ , man. You pounded your _chest_." His fingers skate across your ribcage and he smiles. "No, right, that was me pounding your chest. And howling. I think." He pats your pecs. "Sorry."

You're not. _You_ smile.

Then he says, ""Hey, I could take him some popcorn —"  


 

**III.**

"Larry always liked popcorn," he tells you, as if you actually care. "And peanuts."

You groan. What the fuck does it take to get Sandburg's tiny post-coital mind off that fucking monkey?

"Or maybe I should get him some fruit," he continues, still petting you absently on the chest. Spectacular, top-of-the-evolutionary-ladder sex with you, and he's obsessing about getting his former monkey some fruit. You don't deserve this.

"Grapes?" he mumbles, chewing his lip. "Plums? Or mangoes —"

You groan louder.

"— he's crazy about mangoes. Hey, you okay?" he asks, and pats you again. "You pull a muscle? Or maybe bananas…"

 

**IV.**

Bananas — you'd like to give him bananas. Both of them; Sandburg _and_ —

"You're thinking 'cliché', right?" he asks. Rhetorically, as far as you're concerned. "But he _likes_ bananas, Jim, and —"

You cross your arms over your chest, with dignity. "I don't care what the fucking monkey likes," you say, more politely than Sandburg deserves. "I don't want to hear another _word_ about your fucking —"

"Ape, Jim," he mutters automatically. Then he laughs, the shit. "Wait a minute — _that_ was what the second time was about? That was 'jealous of _Larry_ ' sex?" And he smacks your biceps, still laughing.

Fucking monkey.

 

**V.**  
  
"Sandburg," you start, with admirable restraint, "I'm _not_ —"

You stop. He's still laughing like a hyena. About sex with you.

You consider pulling the pillow out from underneath his head and, somehow, coldcocking him with it.

Instead you say, cogently, "That was _not_ 'jealous of a monkey —'"

"Right, Jim," he says. "Riiight." You're glaring at the ceiling but you can _hear_ him rolling his eyes. The shit. And then he says, like it's supposed to make you want to grab your wallet and buy Larry some fruit yourself, "I'm grateful to him, you paranoid jackass."

Grateful.

To Larry.

Grateful to —

 

**VI.**

"I'm never having sex with you again, Sandburg," you growl.

He snorts. Then he stops laughing and rolls on top of you and looks down into your eyes. And says, "Jim," quiet, but intense, "you let me move _in_ because of Larry." He leans closer until his lips are brushing yours. "We would've gotten together anyway, right? But it probably would've taken longer — maybe a lot longer — without you wearing those _towels_ , and the time we both —"

Larry: _Deus ex machina_.

Christ.

"Give him the bananas," you mumble against Sandburg's mouth, and feel him smile.

You'll spring for the mangoes.  
   
 


End file.
